The Effects of Alcohol
by Karigan Aisling
Summary: Chapter 3- Fragments of a Shattered Mind. Will wakes up, and remembers his past. Jack gets a scare, and AnaMaria is acting strangely.
1. Finding Will and Losing Rum

Authors Notelet: Don't own. If I did, Will wouldn't have stayed with Elizabeth at the end of the film, savvy? The pairing is Jack/Will. So that means there is **SLASH!!!!! Rating: PG-13 ish? Rated for mentioned abuse. Summary: Jack isn't a romantic, and he knows it. But when someone hurts Will, is there anything he wouldn't do to gain his trust again? **

I'm Sorry.

Jack creaked his eyes open, and shut them again as the sunlight stung straight into his head. His limbs felt heavy. He sat up groggily. Memories flashed across his hung-over mind and he smiled to himself. 

Ah, the rum. That explains why his head was all fuzzy and he couldn't remember all that had happened the previous night. He had somehow managed to make his way back to the Pearl and collapse in an undignified heap in his quarters. He didn't trust any man alive nowadays. Not with his Pearl at least. Except William. And Bootstrap, if he wasn't dead.

He had tried to give it up. The rum, that is. His little William wasn't too fond of it. He had been doing quite well, had dropped down to a bottle a day instead of the usual seven. Obviously he had had a little too much the night afore and had gotten overly drunk, judging from the headache that was booming through his head. 

Shaking his head, to rid himself of the echoing bells, the pirate attempted to scramble out of the bed. Fighting with the blanket, he managed to tangle himself up and end up on a heap in the middle of the floor, causing a loud 'thump'. Cursing vehemently, he sat up, and realised that he was alone. Half glad that he was by himself (and that no-one had seen him descend gracefully out of bed) the other half was wondering where the whelp was, whilst another half was getting rather hungry.

Deciding that he had best tackle his impending hunger before starting his search for Will, he donned his usual pirate gear, grabbed a half empty bottle of rum off the side table, and made his grand entrance outside.

His crew were all loyal to him. They could be easily replaced with others if they weren't, and he made sure they knew it. They were privileged to stay on his ship. On his Pearl, his first love. They loved the life they had here. On the open sea, with him as their captain and the Pearl as their ship, they had nothing to fear. No-one with any sense dared approach them, unless it be some band of amateur pirates who wanted to make a reputation of themselves by taking on the 'Famous Captain Jack Sparrow and the Crew of the Black Pearl.' It usually ended in disaster. For the others of course, since the Pearl was uncatchable and unbeatable.

Which is why Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't quite expecting the slap that found itself across his face. He wasn't sure if he deserved it either.

Opening his eyes and gingerly touching his cheek, he stared down at his lovely first mate, Anamaria. 

"Whassat for?" he demanded grumpily. His stomach was starting to hurt now, what with the lack of food in it and all. 

The woman turned on her heel and strode off, in those boots that were too big for her. 

Shrugging his shoulders, the captain made his way down to the galley, descending down the steps, swaying slightly. Emerging a short while later, awake and fed, and with arms full of rum bottles. the captain discovered Gibbs chewing tobacco near the side of the ship, looking over the port of Tortuga with a rueful expression on his face.

"Allo Gibbs. Seen William anywheres?" Jack asked jovially. His long time friend turned around and leant up against the wooden side of the Pearl. A smile greeted him, and a nod upwards.

"Last I seen young Will, he were up in the nest.  The lad didn' seem to happy wi' himself neither. Prob'ly had a rough night." The older pirate mused, chuckling knowledgably. Jack nodded and laughed. It was just like Will, to close himself in a small space when he was upset or annoyed. 

And if he had had a bad night (or might have been good- depended on the viewpoint, Jack thought) then the lad would almost definitely be hidden away, probably embarrassed that he had made a fool of himself. The lad still had a long way to go before he could call himself a true pirate. Even if the blood was in his veins (and here Jack tipped his hat to old Bootstrap) and he was capable of getting through fights in one piece, the whelp still had that annoying sense of honesty attached to him. And no pirate was truly honest. Except maybe Bootstrap. 

Jack swirled the last of his rum around the bottle and cradled it thoughtfully. Maybe honesty ran in the Turner family. And the ability to do stupid things at the inopportune moments. 

Looking up, the captain realised that Gibbs had gone. As had the stash of rum he had brought up with him. 

"Bloody pirates." He laughed, throwing his head back. Leaning his elbows on the side of the ship, he peered up at the nest above him. If Gibbs was right, then Will was up there, but if he were wrong, then he'd have made a complete fool out of himself attempting to climb up there in the first place. Jack Sparrow wasn't known for his rigging climbing skills.

"An it's a good job an' all." He exclaimed to himself. After a few more moments, however he realised that he was Captain Jack Sparrow. And no-one would dare laugh at him. With that thought in his mind, he began to ascend to the top of the rope ladder.

Casting a glance around to make sure there was nobody else around wouldn't hurt either.

After much panting and climbing and _realising-he-wasn't-as-young-as-he-used-to-be_, Jack finally perched on top of the nest.

Quite pleased with himself, he prepared to have a toast to celebrate his newfound talent. Then he realised that he had left his last bottle of rum at the bottom. Cursing, and not wanting to return back down the torturous rope slide, the pirate decided to make do with what he had. 

Hoping with all his weasly black heart that Will was indeed up there, and he was not wasting his time, Jack turned around and manoeuvred his way onto the wood. Ah, there was his little William. Curled up, facing away from him. From the fact that he hadn't turned around at the sound of Jack approaching, he was presumably asleep.

Jack crept up behind him and knelt down gently.

"Go away Jack." The youth whispered. He sounded tired, and there was a strange lisp in his voice. Concerned for his young lover, he pulled Will towards him, rolling him onto his back. What met his eyes astounded him.

Will's face was horribly bruised and battered. And from the way Will whimpered against his hands, Jack was willing to bet that his wounds extended to the rest of his body. The pirate's eyes narrowed as he took in a gash that stretched from Will's temple to his cheek. It looked quite deep and would need cleaning before it healed over. The lad's eyes were full of a strange emotion that Jack could barely recall. He let out a strangled yelp before squirming out of Jack's arms onto the other side of the small space.

"I swear Will…" Jack whispered, his voice that full of shock that he couldn't speak. Will backed away from him as far as he could. Jack frowned. The whelp must be delusional, he concluded. He clambered over to him and as he reached him, the lad shuddered and fell into a dead faint.

Will had been terrified and beaten, and Jack was going to make the person responsible pay for it. 

Or his name wasn't Captain Jack Sparrow.


	2. Gibbs and confounded tables

Disclaimer is in the first chapter so if you're that bothered, please go and read it there. Thanks everyone for their reviews! 
    
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Chapter two: Evil Jack and Quiet Will.

Later that day, when the normally raucous crew of the Pearl were rioting around the ship, only a deathly silence hung. 'Captain Jack was in a bad mood' they said. 'Poor little Turner lad been done in, and the Captain 'ent too happy about it.'

In the captain's quarters, Jack was pacing around the room, unusually sober, with a concerned look on his face. Will was lying in the bed, still unconscious. Gibbs had returned from the depths of wherever he had been, (with a distinct lack of rum and a hefty sum of cash- Jack noticed unhappily) as soon as he had heard the news, and was tending to Will's gashes and bruises. Things had spread around the port pretty quickly, that one of Jack Sparrow's crew had been attacked, and that the angry captain was seeking revenge on the bilge rat who had dared cross him. No quarter. No mercy.

Jack Sparrow was angry. Furious, even. And after his tell-tale stories and numerous adventures, Captain Jack was not one to argue against. Not even the toughest pirate dared to poke fun at the captain, not prepared to face his…'unruly wrath'. All in all, however, Jack was one of the most mild mannered pirates in the Spanish main, but he did nothing to stop the rumours spreading of his dangerous nature. Publicity, that was. 

He was now one of the most famous men to ever pirate a ship, taking on a whole galleon of undead pirates and defeating them single-handedly, while his crew -and Will- stood by and watched their captain fight to the bitter end. Then of course, Jack had swept little William off his feet and they had sailed off into the sunset together. 

Or so the stories said. Will hadn't felt like taking any of the credit, and had left Jack to weave his own net of lies, trapping any pirate who was stupid enough to listen. And because the lad hadn't objected, as well as the rest of the crew, Jack's word had been believed and his reputation had risen by a fair amount.

A sudden wave of nausea flooded through Jack's mind, and his feet stumbled as he tried to get a grip on himself. He let out a variety of different curses, as he tripped over his protruding appendages and fell, hitting his chin off the table. Gibbs, who had been keeping a careful eye on the day-dreaming man, chuckled. The captain was still clumsy even when he was sober. Getting up, and lending his hand to Jack, he pulled the other pirate into a standing position. 

"Go an' get some kip Cap'n. Yer doin' the lad no 'arm by restin'. Yer look ready t' collapse." He said gently, and gave the younger pirate a shove towards the door. 

"Go an' sleep in the lad's room." He muttered, and promptly shut the door in his captain's face. Jack frowned. It was raining. He was getting decidedly wet. He should move. 

Grudgingly, he shifted his weight into his feet and walked the short path towards the first mate's room. Will's room. Well, the place where he was _supposed to sleep. Everyone on the ship knew that Will spent each night in his captain's arms, but none of them commented on it. That popularity thing again. Swinging the door open with a sharp kick, Jack sauntered over to the bed, eyes starting to droop, and fell in an untidy heap onto the boy's bed. _

What was it about worry that caused you to feel tired all the time? Jack felt exhausted, even though he had only been up a few hours at the most. Curling the blankets around his body, he took a deep breath. He could still catch Will's scent on them, though it was faint. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep. Every time he felt himself drifting off, he saw pictures of William's chocolaty-brown eyes, widened in fear and helplessness, which brought him back to the lad's current dilemma, which happened to wake him up again thoroughly. He could not wait until this entire thing had blown over and his William was safely back in his arms.

Turning over, Jack cursed softly under his breath and opened his eyes. Over the other side of the small room was a mirror. The captain sighed as he realised that the kohl smeared around his eyes had been smudged. Bringing a dirty hand up to his face, he felt something he had not felt since he was a lad.

He had been crying.

Across the ship, Gibbs had finished checking over Will for any more bruises or wounds, and was now tucking him into the bed, under the covers. It had utterly astounded the elderly pirate. How could someone hurt a lad as innocent looking as this one? Smiling wryly, he knew well enough that William Turner junior was no innocent young man, considering the things he had heard over the various nights after sleeping in the room next to the lad and his lover. A small sound erupted from the bed, causing Gibbs to turn around. Will was sitting up, somewhat stiffly, and looked completely baffled as to where he was.

"Alrigh' now Will?" he asked kindly. The boy, noticing him, forced a smile and gingerly brought a hand up to his temple, where a bandage had been applied to the large wound there. Wincing, the boy nodded shakily. No sound was made. Gibbs frowned. Surely the whelp would have wanted to know how he had gotten into the bed and why he was there in the first place. Right?

Letting out a soft sigh, the pup slid back down into the soft haven of Jack's bed, and sighed peacefully.

"I'm safe here." It wasn't a statement, much rather a question, one Gibbs wasn't sure how to answer. At the lack of response from the elder pirate, Will elaborated.

"He can't hurt me here, can he?" Gibbs moved over towards the bed. The boy shrank back unconsciously, though an uncertain smile played on his face. Sitting down on a lush chair next to the bed, Gibbs leaned towards Will, and his eyes strayed to the lad's gashed temple.

"Who can' hurt yer 'ere Will? Who was it that hurt yer before, lad?" he asked gently, taking Will's hands in one of his own. The whelp seemed comforted by the touch, but he shook his head and smiled sadly again. Gibbs nodded and sighed. Understandable, that the lad wasn't ready to talk yet. Glancing back at the young pirate, he noticed that he was trying to get comfortable, comfortable enough to sleep.

He arranged the pillows and blankets (and there was enough of them for three beds) in an assortment around Will's back, and sighed. The poor kid had fallen asleep already. Gibbs had his suspicions about the night before, but he kept them mostly to himself. If he was right, however, the captain would not be very happy with that person in particular. 

Gibbs liked Will. The lad seemed like the son he'd never had, and never would have. He'd taken him under his wing and taught him everything from The Code to how to tie knots to mending the sails after a particularly rough storm. To think that someone had the guts to come and hurt him in _that way, if Gibbs was right in what he was accusing the man of, on Jack's ship, with two pirates on board nearby, and Jack himself couldn't have been far away either, considering that he always drank in pubs close to the Pearl, making sure that he could keep at least one eye on his love. Normally had Will by his side, but the lad had obviously gone wandering about by himself, and landed himself into trouble._

Now, as he watched the child sleep, he wondered how it was that someone could force the innocence out of a boy so pure hearted. How could someone hurt the poor lad? The man who did it must have had a heart of stone to scare the lad. Because that's all he was. A child. Not even in his twenties yet, according to Jack.

That's when he decided, whoever had hurt the boy would pay. With his life.


	3. Fragments of a Shattered Mind

Disclaimer is in the first chapter so if you're that bothered, please go and read it there. 
    
    Sorry for the format of the last chapter, no matter what I did made no difference. 
    
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Chapter three: Fragments of a shattered mind.

Will opened his eyes and sat up. He felt a sharp pain through his head and groaned softly. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and his limbs felt heavy and numb. Glancing around the room, he noticed where he was. In Jack's room. Alone. The window showed that there was quite a storm outside. The rain was falling like hailstones, and it made his head ache. His eyes fell on a small round mirror on the bedside table. He smiled bemusedly. Jack had mirrors everywhere, and Will was sure that the captain carried one on him. There was one in every room. Strange, for a pirate who claimed he wasn't in the slightest bit vain. Even stranger, when said pirate didn't even bother with his appearance, apart from smudging a fresh outline of black kohl around his eyes every morning. He picked the mirror up and peered into it. 

His face stared back at him, pale and frowning. His eyes darted to the side of his head, where a bandage was wrapped around. Putting the mirror on his lap, he started to undo the bandage, unwrapping it until it was nothing more than a long stream of cloth on the bed in front of him. Retrieving the mirror from its bloodied grave, he looked once more at his wound. He hissed softly as he ran his finger over the gaping hole. A trickle of blood ran down his face, and if possible, his brown eyes widened even more than they had done originally.

A violent shudder rocked through his body, and his chest heaved with a sudden burst of flaming pain that spread like fire through his body. Unconsciously he leaned forward and leaned his head on his raised knees. He wrapped his arms around his chest and his mind reeled. Images flickered through his mind, one after the other, faster, faster, until all he could see was a blur of pictures behind his eyes. There was a flash of light. His head was spinning and all he could see was brown. Wood, he realised, and a familiar voice talking underneath him.

_"An' it's a good job an' all!"_

_A sound like stretched rope, a few seconds silence, then a bout of muttered cursing and a thud, like someone stumbling onto a wooden platform. Irregular, loud footsteps towards him. Thudding headache, throbbing so hard that his head felt like it was about to burst. He shouted something, but it came out as more of a plea than a command. Hands fumbling to turn him onto his back. Hurts so much. Only now did he realise that he had been on his side in the first place. Bright sunshine scorched his eyes and he was forced to close them._

_Opening them again, he saw dark eyes scanning his face, a mouth moving almost silently. A shocked and astounded face was barely inches away. What Will wouldn't give to be held safely in Jack's arms. A vague memory jolted him into action, and he wriggled away despite of himself. Scared to be so close to another person. He started to scream for Jack to help him. Why wasn't Jack there? Where had he gone? Pain erupted through his body, and darkness overtook him. _

In the next room, the pirate captain was woken from his fitful slumber by screaming. Leaping up, and dashing out of the lad's room (forgetting his coat) Jack tried to open the door to his cabin. The door was locked. Growling in frustration, and wiping the rain out of his eyes, he slammed against the door, in a hope to smash it open. Will was still yelling. A particularly hard shove opened the door and Jack was flung unceremoniously onto the floor. Scrambling up, he launched himself at the bed, and dragged his lover up into a sitting position. The boy had quietened slightly, but was writhing in his arms. His eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated. Gasps of shock were emerging from his mouth and he was jerking wildly.

Not knowing what to do, Jack started to panic. He raised his arms to Will's shoulders and shook him, gently at first, but grew wilder and more desperate as the boy didn't respond. Will let out a violent  kick, and Jack was flung onto the floor, where he lay, shocked that he couldn't do anything to stop Will from crying out. His screams started to subside, and after a few minutes of muffling silence, the captain snapped out of his stupor. He crept towards the bed and enveloped his Will in his arms. He was still shaking, but was calmer now, and his eyes had regained their former state.

Will sniffed and buried his head in Jack's shoulder. The captain pulled the younger pirate towards him and kissed the top of his dark curls. Will looked up, hesitantly, and took in the image of his partner. The elder pirate was a state. His face was pale and his eyes were half closed, as though he were tired. The kohl around his eyes was smudged, marking his face rather like a bandit. He was only half dressed, his coat was missing, as well as his effects. And his hat. And to top it all off, he was half soaked and shivering from experiencing the raging storm outside. But his dark lined eyes were expressing a varying amount of emotions.

Love was there, Will could see. Worry was also there, and so was desperation. Desperate to help Will, and to keep him safe. That protection was there as well, the protection that Jack always had for him, ever since Will had joined him on the Pearl after leaving poor Elizabeth, his dear childhood friend, to her fate of her wedding with Norrington. But above all was the love. Jack would always be there for him, how could he ever have doubted it? Seeing the gentleness in his lover's eyes made Will want to bury himself into a hole and never come out. He felt ashamed of himself for being so dependant and weak, and annoyed that he knew that Jack would help him without questioning or thinking about it. Why should he soil Jack's presence by existing? He was nothing more than a disgrace to everyone. 

He had been quiet as a child. He heard what the neighbours used to say about him. 'that Turner boy is going to be trouble.' 'To damn quiet for my liking' 'Son of a pirate, he is.' Of course, his mother had kept her head held high and a smile on her face, convinced that her husband would come back. Because of that, Will believed her. Because she would never lie to him. She had always told him how life was going to be when his da' came home. She had believed it up until her death. On her death bed she had given him their life savings (which, Will remembered, had seemed like such a lot at the time, but had dissolved into nothing after a few weeks). He had spent most of the money on her funeral, made her look as beautiful as he could with the money he had, in the hopes that his father would come and see her.

He remembered the day she was buried. He had watched as she was delivered into the ground, and the people had thrown the soil on top of her. He had seen her face, still defiant even in death, yet as beautiful as the fairest princess disappear. There had been a lot of people there that day. They had all been sympathetic towards him. 'The poor little Turner orphan who had tragically lost both parents' became almost a legend in his area. He got things for free, food from the bakers (who had always been friendly towards he and his mother) and clothes made by the eccentric lady who lived over the corner shop. Which, he reminded himself, were always too big for him. He had been taken away from his mother's house, the only place he had ever known, and put in an orphanage. He visited his mother's grave every day, often taking flowers or stones to decorate around it.

_Sitting down, the small, ragged boy turned out his pockets onto the grass. It was a dismal day, sleeting, with a strong chilly breeze. It was a typical November morning. He had stolen away from his bed at the orphanage to come here, as he had done every morning. He often stayed there, until mid afternoon, and people started to look for him. They hadn't bothered to lately. They knew where he was, and that he would be back by tea time, so they didn't care. Wasn't in their job description, to go around chasing after lunatic children who spent every day at his mother's gravestone. _

_He wiped the wetness on his face away, not sure if it was the rain or his own tears that ran down his cheeks. With the flowers and stones he had collected the afternoon before, he started to arrange a simple pattern. A heart shape with a flower in the middle. Sometimes daisies, or buttercups, but this day was different. He had saved up his money that people had given him, and had bought a single white flower. A lily. _

_They had been her favourite. For occasionally they had woken to discover a bunch of the expensive flowers laying on the table, complete with a note that his mother would always whisk out of his sight. Later on he would always find his mother curled up on the sofa or the bed, crying tears of relief. She would spot him hiding by the door and call him over to her, cuddling him and telling him what a wonderful man his father was._

_Caught up in this memory, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Spinning around, he looked up at the stranger. He stood tall, towering above the child. He was young, in his mid twenties at the most. He had light hair. The stranger placed his hands on his cheeks, and forced him to look up at his face, studying him. His eyes were blue, but serious, and sceptical.  _

_"So much like yer old da'." he murmured and finally hauled Will up by his arms, and took hold of his hand. Delving into one of his many pockets of his long black coat, he retrieved something. The man placed the gift into his outstretched hand, and in doing so, revealed his right forearm. Will's eyes widened._

_"You're a pirate." He whispered accusingly. The elder man looked thoughtful and nodded._

_"Aye, and I knew yer father, lad. He was a good man. A good sailor. If yer grow up to be even half the man 'e was, then yer gonna turn out alrigh'. He told me ter give yer this." With this said, he turned, and walked off, whistling to himself. Will looked down into his hand, made dirty by the mud he had been sitting on, and opened it. Gold glinted back at him. It was a medallion. Looking at the design on it, he realised that he should give it up to the authorities. It was, after all, given to him by a pirate. But if he was right, and it had been passed onto him by his father, then he must know where his was. _

_Looking up, the pirate had gone. He started to run, in the direction that the man had gone in, but he was nowhere to be seen. Where would a pirate have gone to, he wondered. Then it hit him. The docks. A pirate would want to leave a place like this, where pirates were sought after as criminals, and sail away onto the horizon, never to be seen again. Should he follow this man, and try to find his father? Or should he stay here, and look after his mother's grave. After all, she was the only thing that had kept him going all these long months. _

_Closing his eyes, he made his choice. Clipping the medallion around his neck, he made towards the port. Running down the street he had grown up in, only stopping to collect his things quickly from the orphanage, he raced passed the corner shop, past his old home, past the bakers, the butchers, running through the town centre, jumping over carts and dodging people twice his height. He reached the port, and looked around. Wildly, he tried to spot the pirate he had seen earlier. He felt another hand on his shoulder._

_"You alright there young man?" he asked. It was the man, now dressed in shabby old silken clothes, that would have been once considered regal._

_"Please, sir, I would like to sail with you, to find my father?" he whispered anxiously. The pirate smiled._

_"This ship in front of you, m'boy, is one of the finest. And I am her captain." He said, and extended his hand out to the small boy. Will grinned, and held out his free hand to the pirate captain. _

_"Any child o' Bill is welcome on the Opium Star, m'boy. I'd be glad t'have you on board. Come, let's get you acquainted with the crew." He said, and pulled Will along with him, up the ramp and onto the ship. Whistling sharply, an assortment of men stood in front of him. _

_"Men, we have a new cabin boy on board, little William. Make sure you keep your eyes on him so that he don't get into any trouble. Any man not treating him with the proper respect will face the cat o' nine tails. Understand?"_

_The crew took to Will immediately. They gave him a space in the corner of the crew's cabins, and taught him all they knew about sailing, and pirating. Months later, the captain, who Will referred to as 'uncle Marty', took him under his wing and became almost as close to Will as his mother had been. He even had one of  the same coins that Will's father had given him. It had been given to Marty by a strange man named Bill, 'a fine man, and a good pirate by all who knew him'. Every day Will had asked uncle Marty to tell him about his father, and where he was, but each time, the pirate had responded with the same uneasy answer._

_"Soon, lad. I'll tell you when you're ready."_

_Late one afternoon, a shout had gone up from the watchman in the crow's nest. It was that day, that Will caught his first sight of the Black Pearl, and the last sight of his dear 'uncle' Marty. The Black Pearl, it had attacked them, killed his uncle, stole his treasured coin and blown up the boat. Will himself would have been killed if one of the crew hadn't thrown him off the ship before the fighting started. The fall from the back of the ship had knocked him unconscious, since he did not fall into the water at all, but upon one of the doors from the captain's room, that had been thrown off the ship by one of the opposing pirates._

Jack smiled. The lad had fallen asleep, not into a fitful sleep, but a proper, deep sleep and would not wake up until the next day. He himself yawned and snuggled closer to his lover. He could not get the boy's face out of his head. How he had looked almost exactly like his father when he was thinking deeply about something or other. He frowned, wrapped the blankets around them snugly, closed his eyes, and drifted off into the best sleep he had had in days.

From the door, Gibbs chuckled, and pulled the door to a close, leaving the captain and his young love to their privacy and sleep. Ana stood next to him, trying to shield her eyes from the torrent of rain that insisted on trying to drown them.

"They be alright now Ana. I don't think we could shift the cap'n even if we wanted ter." He said, and nodded to the woman, who looked strangely concerned. Gibbs shook his head and looked at her again. Her face was now devoid of any emotion, as it normally was. The elderly pirate sighed. He was getting old. Together they trudged back towards their posts, both retaining a small piece of information for future purposes.


End file.
